Lessons on Cauldrons & Companionship
by Lamihe
Summary: Even though Hermione had returned to Hogwarts after the war, normalcy had not. This is a tale about the evolving relationships between those who survived the war who have returned to the castle halls. A post-war, 8th year Hogwarts story primarily focusing on a Hermione and a certain raven haired potions professor but with other characters mingled in as well. Eventual Sevmione.
1. Chapter 1 - The Salve

_I have been a long-time fanfiction reader but up until relatively recently I had never tried my hand at writing. This story was just an idea that I had one day that I figured I would attempt to put to pen & paper. I have not completely planned out or completed this story yet so no promises in terms of updates. Who knows, maybe after the couple of stories I have started thus far I will decide to skulk back to the shadows and simply consume other's amazing fanfictions. We shall see. _

_Similarly, to all others here, all characters & story elements you recognize from the wonderful world of Harry Potter are the creation of JK Rowling and I am just an enthusiastic muggle with a love for stories and all things magic._

**Lessons on Cauldrons & Companionship**

The sharp and herbaceous smell of green lemon hit first followed soon by the soothingly smoking scent of cedar. The botanical notes evolved into an increasingly heavy metallic top note that abruptly shifted to the acrid scent of burning rubber.

"Shit!" Hermione exclaimed as she quickly dissipated the now slightly charred lumpy contents of her cauldron. Rather than be embarrassed or frightened as most students were when creating such an abomination of a potion to deem immediate removal, she was furious with herself. Not only had her inattention lead to ruining her potion but if she had not been simply in the process of making a rather mundane healing salve it could have resulted in serious harm to those in the dungeon classroom.

While she berated herself beneath her breath & began prepping her ingredients for the frustratingly necessary second attempt, she missed the graceful yet predatory path that Professor Snape had taken toward her isolated bench in the back of the classroom. This was not the case for her fellow students. As the first years looked on with various expressions of intrigue, terror, anticipation and curiosity she continued to busy herself at her work bench while chastising herself.

"For Merlin's sake Hermione this is a potion that you had memorized second year. What on earth was even so distracting?" she mumbled to herself.

She was quickly startled by a sharply condescending baritone immediately behind her.

"Addressing yourself in the 3rd person, are we? Only individuals deeply infatuated with their own deluded self-worth use such referrals. A trait that was quite favored by one Professor Lockhart if I do recall. Like the blonde narcissist, you also seem to struggle with the most basic tasks. In the future when you are faced with a simplistic potion that you are incompetent of completing make sure to give me notice. It would give me great pleasure to send a first year to guide you."

Once she ascertained that he was in fact done with his insult she slowly turned to face her displeased professor. She looked defiantly into the dark eyes that seemed to grow increasingly impatient with her lack of response.

With a saccharine smile that did not reach her eyes responded, "My sincerest apologies Professor, it will not happen again."

His pale face twisted into a slight scowl that seemed to show that he felt a cavity forming from the false sweetness of her response.

"Ensure that it does not Ms. Granger. Five points from Gryffindor for your astonishing ineptitude. Attempt to brew it correctly this next time or there will be both point deductions and detentions to follow."

The depth of his gaze grew in intensity as he studiously looked at her face for any sign of rebellion or emotion. He lost patience at her carefully blank face and spun on his heel in a billow of black toward the front of the classroom.

Once he was weaving through the benches observing the first years, she morosely continued her _mise en plase_ of the potion ingredients. She typically liked the schedule she had been granted when returning to Hogwarts but at times it could be grating. As there was a unique presence of 8th year students, there were certain tasks around the castle that were assigned to be completed in addition to typical coursework. Assisting in brewing potions for the hospital wing was just one of the tasks that Hermione had in her schedule. That task is what found her now meticulously chopping dandelion roots at her personal station at the back of the dungeon classroom. Intent on no further incidents she used such concentration that she had a splitting headache once her perfectly concocted salve was complete.

She gave the pale periwinkle potion cooling in the cauldron a satisfied smile as she went to the store room to collect the medicinal jars to be filled for the hospital wing. Once carefully portioned and bottled, she noted the exact variations she had made to the potion in her small violet journal.

She had decided to add a small amount of preserved lemon rind and cedar wood oil to the salve. This was done for two reasons. First, the additions were added to reduce the bitter metallic smell present when applied. It also remained on the user's skin providing dermal benefits of the botanical additions including antioxidants, anti-inflammatory, and antimicrobial properties. Setting one jar to the side for personal use, each jar was carefully stacked within the crate to be taken to Madam Pomfrey.

With her task complete she quickly packed her things in her bag and promptly walked to the massive double doors leading to the dungeon corridor and to her freedom from the short-tempered potions master. With her hand on the handle she turned to look at her professor. He was by a rather flustered pair of students struggling with their hiccoughing potion but facing the door with a stern look. Regardless of his austere expression, Hermione gave a slight nod and half smile before sliding through the large doorway.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Quarters

_Thank you all for the sweet reviews. Here is another chapter for your loveliness. It might seem like a filler chapter, but I really wanted to use it to set the scene for many future chapters. It also gives a nod to Hermione's mindset in regard to things like her coping post-war. I hope you all enjoy, and I hope to have a new chapter up soon. It will be reflective as well but who does not like a little peek into the mind of our favorite witch? _

_Just as a friendly reminder, all characters & story elements you recognize from the wonderful world of Harry Potter are the creation of JK Rowling and I am just an enthusiastic muggle with a love for stories and all things magic._

**Lessons on Cauldrons & Companionship**

The halls were expectedly empty with classes still in session. Her life before the war at Hogwarts was often entirely thought of in regard to class sessions and the distinct sound of each bell. Well her academic life at least. There was still the matter of extravagant rule breaking for the sake of survival and the protection of the wizarding world as a whole.

The echo of her shoes on the uneven stone ground was still calming. It represented all the many walks taken with friends to and from classes and meals, the sound that first greeted her when she walked into Hogwarts the very first time, and even the sound of the victory of the battle with all the survivors eagerly finding loved ones and moving rapidly amongst the fighters present. With each step it sounded like home. This was even truer today she supposed.

Following the war she had sought out her parents, now named Wendell and Monica Wilkins, in Australia. After tirelessly searching she found them in a small cottage enjoying their very mundane and content lives. With all the Gryffindor courage she could muster she had knocked tentatively on their door. Feelings of relief washed over her to see the happy faces of her parents, but a sharp pain was felt at the utter lack of recognition. After feigning needing to use a phone, they invited her in.

While her mother made a pot of tea to share, Hermione carefully spelled both of her parents facing away from her frozen. As she conducted the spell indicating the possibility of memory restoration on both parents she was faced with a harsh reality. The memory removal and alteration had been in place long enough that reversal was not possible without serious risk of harm to either party. Withholding tears, she released them from the spell and shared a pot of tea with her once parents before placing an unnecessary call and leaving.

The following days before returning to England were a fog of sorrow and tears only alleviated by the knowledge that her parents were blissfully unaware of their lack of parenthood and they were leading very happy lives. With the confirmation of her parents' state she became one more orphan of the war.

Upon Hermione's return she met with the now headmistress Mcgonagall to discuss reenrollment and update her with regards to her parents. Mcgonagall provided both the open ear and the firm comfort that Hermione needed. Arrangements would be made so that she could be enrolled and could stay at Hogwarts for holidays and indefinitely until other arrangements were made post-graduation. To Hermione's relief she would be provided with her own private room including an en suite for her final year.

Due to the unique nature of returning students there were specific adjustments made. During reconstruction, there was a new addition added on the fifth floor. It seemed unassuming due to the only visible difference from the hall being a large wooden lancet door stained a deep purple.

Once the door was opened however there was a sunken lounge a few steps down with sweeping ceilings and plush furniture. As you entered you immediately faced an enormous ornate fireplace. Regardless of its grandeur, it seemed a bit mish mashed in a very comfortable way.

The first distinction this room had from other common rooms was a distinct lack of coordination of color and style. Rather than the clear representation of a particular house, all of the colors were present in addition to other jewel tones like purples and oranges.

Also, the furniture styles spanned many time periods. The room seemed to be decorated with an amalgamation of décor from all four of the common rooms residing within the castle. There were large sweeping bookshelves echoing Ravenclaw's favorite use of wall space. Across the ground there were clusters of large yellow velvet floor pillows with many tassels reminiscent of Hufflepuff's friendly and relaxed setting. Throughout the expansive room sleek black lacquered tables reflecting polished Slytherin style could be readily seen. Finally, warm scarlet ornate rugs directly mimicking those scattered across the floors of Gryffindor tower brought a level of hominess and softness.

The color and styles were not the only disjointed element to the room. There was floor to ceiling bookcases with ladders framing the large fire place central to the room. Surrounding the fireplace there were chairs, sofas and cushions all covered in an abundance of pillows. Against the walls there were small tables with chairs sporadically clustered around them inviting anyone to use them for work or leisure. Windows were placed around the room with large sills large enough to sit in at random heights.

Like the rest of Hogwarts, the walls were heavily adorned. However, peppered throughout the many tapestries and paintings there were numerous mirrors. The mirrors were all different shapes and sizes all bordered with ornate frames. The biggest of which was an aged mirror towering over the mantle of the large hearth. With the many mirrors, there was constantly light cast about the room either from the many windows or the sconces placed sporadically throughout the space.

Even with the disjointed nature of the colors, layout and furniture, the room was a warm representation of all that Hogwarts was. The room emanated contentment and hominess and following the war it was exactly what all its residents needed.

The lounge had two hallways splitting off from either side. Each hallway had numerous rooms that the returning eighth year students resided in. Since it was acting as student housing the hallways were gendered however the space would be used as guest accommodations once the year concluded.

There were not many eighth years who had returned. The small number made some feel more comforted and others feel lonelier. It was also an adjustment sharing living space with those who you never would have considered before the end of the war. Used to the stark distinctions of house loyalties, it was a change for everyone involved.

Additionally, even though most were newly interacting as housemates, there were still histories from the previous school years at the forefront of everyone's minds. Even so, there was an almost desperate drive to be tolerant and move past previous grievances. Every eighth year was haunted by some element of the war, school disagreements seemed simply too trivial to cling to.

Perhaps the décor of the newly added wing was more appropriate than Hermione had ever realized. Every element of the room had varied histories, roles, tones, and house affiliations that resulted in a type of beautiful chaos. The mis-matching furnishings somehow resulted in a space that was endearing and comforting. Perhaps with this pivotal final year the eighth-year students could have the same result.

With a fond look around the common room she slowly turned and headed to her quarters.


	3. Chapter 3 - The Mirror's Reflection

_Hey look! Another chapter! Huzzah! This one is more reflective and internal monologue but do not fret! There is banter and more characters on the horizon. Dare I say a certain blonde is particularly present in the following chapter? Happy reading my lovelies and enjoy!_

**Lessons on Cauldrons & Companionship**

Hermione was thankful that she reached her room without running into anyone. She felt unreasonably fatigued considering it was only midafternoon. After some consideration and as a reward for her completing her potions without more points being removed, she decided a nice soak in her tub was well deserved.

Don't misunderstand, the arrangement for potion brewing was actually something that Hermione very much enjoyed. Due to being far and away above her peers in many subjects, her professors had taken to setting aside separate times that she could practice advance work, discuss theoretical advancements with them, or assist them in the duties. For potions, this included assisting providing the potions to the infirmary.

This had been one of the most satisfying tasks thus far. Hermione eagerly took the chance to brew familiar potions. These were potions she was comfortable with enough that she could indulge in minor experimentation. It also provided the perfect opportunity for a bit of observation of a particularly surly professor.

When first introduced to the potion brewing tasks, she assumed she would be regulated to the private potion's lab attached to Professor Snape's office in order to be kept out of the way of classes. It was quite the opposite. She brewed in the back of the classroom to ensure his watchful eye as well as to assist him with students if the need ever arose. She would never verbalize it, but she was flattered that he considered her an asset to the classroom. Plus, she was thankful that with her brewing station set up in the back she was able to see Snape in his natural habitat.

His commanding presence was only emphasized by the hypnotic baritones in which he described each potion with precision. Yes, that tone could become poisonously cutting in a split second, but it was spurred by reasonable expectations of preparedness and attention to detail. His voice could also take on a seduction when he was passionately describing some intimate element of a potion or potion making. Hermione fondly recalled the awe that she was struck with while hanging onto each word like a siren's song in the very first lesson her first year.

Ever since that first interaction she found herself paying attention to him. It wavered in tone from defensive when thinking he was threatening her friends, to curious following his protective actions to the trio, to apprehensive when unsure of his alliances, to utter intrigue when compelled by his clear brilliance and knowledge of not only potions but other subjects before even reaching the age of forty.

She had hoped when she returned for her final year, she could become closer with him. He was someone who would be an intellectual equal that she could not only develop ideas with but spar with in debate. A possible connection was appealing not only because of the utter vault of knowledge his brilliant mind contained but because he was even more deeply immersed in the war than Hermione. She did not want to lament with him over his struggles of the war or any other such nonsense. From what she knew of his roles and experiences, he would understand the burdens with living as a post-war survivor.

Every day she tried to be strong and live the life that so many had fought for post-war, but she often found herself haunted by its shadows. Today was one of those days. Hermione found that following the war she had developed heightened focus on sensory input. Specifically, she could get caught up in something based specifically on one sense. She believed that this was a remnant of living on the run during the war. The trio had to be hyper aware of any possible threat at any time in order to survive. However now it often provided a bit of solace.

When she would focus on something her mind would be clear otherwise. It was restful in a way. Today she had been snared by the aromatic scents wafting off the potion to the point that she missed the point requiring a reduction in temperature and stirs.

This was not surprising since her sensory daydreaming often coincided with restless nights. Last night had been a turbulent night of flashing memories of that horrific night at Malfoy Manor. Hermione had hoped that as time progressed the nightmares would dissipate. Apparently, it had not yet been long enough.

She was not delusional in thinking that a closer bond between her and Snape would lead to therapeutic heart to hearts, but she felt his presence and knowing he understands the pains and suffering of the war would be in some way comforting and cathartic.

Hermione huffed at herself at the thought. She could only imagine his response if he knew of her curiosity of him. As the tub was running, she turned to the mirror and attempted her best impersonation of his trademark sneer. She just looked a bit like she needed to sneeze.

Adjusting her face back to its natural state she looked at her reflection. The figure before her was somehow so much the same yet so different than she had always looked.

Hair was the first to draw attention. Thick curls of warm brown hair framed her face and cascaded all the way to her waist. It was longer than it ever had been and because of the added weight it was less bushy and was rather defined by more distinct curls. The color was a warm brown shot through with lighter caramel tones even further highlighting her riotous curls.

Immediately following the war, she had been put on a strict regimen of nutrition supplements and potions to combat the malnourished state following the last year of war. Due to the increased dosage and frequency of taking them, Hermione's hair grew at an unprecedented rate. Thankfully, she had been cleared of needing to take them at the beginning of the school term otherwise she would soon resemble one of Hagrid's magical creatures or possibly Hagrid himself.

Like her mane, her eyes reflected back warm whiskey brown framed by long eyelashes. She would never admit it, but she had always been somewhat envious of her friend's striking eye colors. This was especially true of Luna's misty blue orbs and Harry's emerald green eyes that were striking even through his glasses.

As if to match, there was a smattering of light brown freckles across her nose and cheekbones. These barely contrasted to the warm glow of her skin tone. Thankfully these were the only spots on her face, and she had luckily never had issues with acne beyond the occasional stress pimple. Unsurprisingly they often coincided with exams or imminent death.

Beyond her face she was petite but slender. Thankfully this was in a graceful way rather than being due to emaciation from the war. Even with Hermione's delicate frame there were clear indications that she was not longer a child. Her frame, while slender, still had flared curves that were not so easily masked beneath her clothing.

Hermione's newfound curves provided the perfect excuse to use some of her money on new clothing, both wizarding and muggle. She was far from a fan of shopping, but the reinvention of her wardrobe felt somewhat like shedding skin. She no longer pulled out an article of clothing and was transported back to whatever struggle she was facing at the time. Additionally, she did not have to fear the reminder of something that was gifted by her parents with each morning of getting dressed.

Even with her new clothing, her style had not changed dramatically. She still favored comfortable jeans, shirts and sweaters but found that she was drawn to some tongue in cheek pieces as well. This was especially highlighted in her hand full of muggle t-shirts sporting magical references and one formal silk slip dress of various shades of copper that when one looked closely was actually composed of a snake skin pattern. Even with her new clothing it was still strange to note her more adult build when looking in the mirror.

This was not the most apparent difference in her body however. Her eyes drifted to the many scars littering her golden skin. Hermione tentatively ran her fingers over the somewhat jagged line horizontally across one side of her throat. Honestly the cut made by Bellatrix's blade had not hurt at the time due to her fading consciousness, but the scar was a reminder of that hellish day. The line on her neck was not hidden by a glamour but she had taken to pulling her tresses over it to avoid any looks or questions. Hermione had made peace enough with her scarring to not glamour it, but she was not quite ready to have it exposed for the world to see.

Noting that the bubbling of the filling tub had come to a stop she stripped her somewhat rumpled uniform from her frame. As Hermione's eyes drifted down, she noted the long purple slash across her chest. It spanned from just above her left breast and continued all the way to the base of her right hipbone. This scar had further encouraged her to stick to her higher neck t-shirts and blouses to ensure that its violet peak would not be exposed.

Sighing Hermione tilted her head to the side whilst biting her lower lip. This scar was something that would be a problem whenever she became more intimate with a partner. Granted there were not any current prospects to be concerned with but nevertheless she did not want her scar to be the defining trait of her body when nude.

Hermione's was painfully reminded of this concern when recalling one summer night where a snogging fest with Ron had become heating enough to remove her shirt. Even still in her shorts and bra he had stopped and looked upon her skin with a look of troubled concern. He of course was not judging her for the scar but he did not seem to be able to look past it either. That had been one of the last incidents that finalized their mutual decision to remain friends rather than anything remotely romantic.

Finally, her eye turned to the skin marring her forearm. The scrawled bigoted slur covered almost the entire length of her forearm extended nearly to her wrist. Did the hate-filled name have to have so many letters? She chuckling to herself remembering that the same thought had flitted across her frantic mind while the manic eyed witch had carved into her.

Once the war concluded she had tossed around the idea of concealing or covering it in some way. However, there was a perverse pleasure in knowing the scar was the solidary legacy left behind by the infamous, unstable witch.

The remaining scars were all afterthoughts that did not all hold negative connotations. Granted, yes, some were the product of various trials and challenged faced during the war, but some were entirely separate. There were random spots of burn scarring from that fateful day in Gringotts. However, considering that Harry and Ron were sporting them as well, they felt like a badge of achievement for all they had accomplished that day.

Hermione fondly looked at a scar across the side of her knee from when she was young and adamant that she no longer needed training wheels on her bike. Her eyes turned to the mark marring her right elbow from her first and last attempt to ride a broom from first year. It was a humbling experience to be reminded that not all things could be mastered by referring to the pages of a book.

Finally, she smirked when looking at the tiny faint scar across one knuckle. Hermione had earned it from her impulsive decision to punch Malfoy directly in his smug face their third year. She was downright proud of that one.

Turning away from vanity she poured in the bath oils and lowered the lights. Sinking into the frothy solace of the bath, Hermione deeply inhaled the scents of warm orange and cinnamon soaking her skin and hair. Feeling the tension seep from her muscles she determined that following the bath a warm cup of jasmine tea and comfortable clothes were just what the doctor ordered.


	4. Chapter 4 - The Fireside

_Here is a chapter made of a helping of friendship, a dash of flashbacks, and a pinch of internal monologue. Enjoy and send good vibes for future chapters! It has been tough to find time to write. Nevertheless, I hope you all like this chapter as much as I liked writing it!_

**Lessons on Cauldrons & Companionship**

Emerging from the bath with a deep sigh, Hermione wrapped herself in a warm robe. While twisting her soaked mane in a towel she strolled into her room in search of comfortable clothes. Opening her wardrobe, she called out for her most favorite house elf.

"Ziggy?" she called.

With a loud pop by the small inset fireplace, she turned and beamed at the little elf. Ziggy was a small elf with large orb like eyes the color of marmalade framed with long lashes. An incredibly frilly pink top was draped on her small frame as a dress and a small beanie was propped precariously between her two large ears.

"How could I be of service Miss Hermione?", squeaked the little smiling elf.

"Could you bring a pot of jasmine tea and some lemon cookies please? Also you know you can just call me Hermione." she requested with a smile.

"Yes of course Miss Hermione!" Ziggy responded eagerly.

With that she popped out of the room and soon reappeared with a steaming pot of tea and a small plate of Hermione's favorite teatime treat.

"Thank you so much Ziggy, you are too good to me!" Hermione gushed.

The little elf blushed and happily twisted her hands in her little frock.

"I am always happy to serve you Miss Hermione!" and with a little wave Ziggy disappeared.

After deciding on a dark pair of jeans and a Sabrina the teenage witch tee layered with a cardigan, she looked in the mirror at a loss as to do with her increasingly unruly curls.

Not wanting to use a drying spell which almost always resulted in a rather rumpled poodle type texture of her hair, she squeezed as much water out and proceeded to braid a low side braid that carefully concealed the small scar on her neck. By the time she was finished she had a thick rope like braid tossed over her shoulder.

Reaching toward her bag, she removed the small jar of healing salve she had just made that morning. She carefully unscrewed the top and leaned toward the periwinkle balm to smell it. It still held a warm citrus and cedar scent. She had initially added the new ingredients for their potential healing properties but realized that the smell would complement her regular smell of her orange and cinnamon fragranced soap and bath oils. She carefully rubbed in a small amount of the balm into the scar on her neck and forearm.

Wanting to use the remaining time before dinner to read in front of the oversized fireplace in the common room, she grabbed a book from her overloaded bedside table and the tray with the tea and cookies and quietly exited her room.

At first glance, the common room seemed empty and quiet besides the soft continuous crackle of the hearth. As Hermione walked quietly toward the plush furniture facing the fire, she spotted a pale male foot propped over the armrest of the couch closest to the warmth of the flames.

Setting the tea set and cookies on the nearby side table she slyly peeked over the couch. Silently slumbering on the couch was none other than Draco Malfoy. His head was propped up on a large pillow with one arm casually tossed above while the other arm clutched an overly tasseled pillow to his chest. His long legs were sprawled haphazardly. One was straight with his foot draped over the armrest and the other was bent with his foot resting on the floor.

The front of his hair fell across his face and with his pale skin he seemed almost angelic. The rest of his hair was slightly mussed but due to its incredibly short length on the sides and back, the top was the only aspect that ever fell out of place. Unlike his early years of plastering back the white blonde hair like a small albino vampire he left the longer length hair on top flop unceremoniously in a casual way. He had never explicitly said but Hermione suspected that he intentionally had very different hair from his earlier years and even more so from the longer locks that were so inherently Lucius Malfoy.

It was strange looking down at the man that for years had been her bully and enemy. That had changed following the war. Well, she supposed it first began at his hesitation to identify Harry at Malfoy Manor but the major shifts happened the past summer before the term began.

After returning from Australia, Hermione took satisfaction in wandering the halls of Hogwarts. She spent her days assisting with reconstruction, delving into the texts of the thankfully undamaged library, and helping Madam Pomfrey by brew potions and learning minor healing spells for those who were still recovering from the war.

One day following dinner Hermione walked into the common room she considered her own and was shocked to see Draco Malfoy standing there looking a bit lost. Panicked and uncomfortable she quickly vacated to her room. Minerva informed her the following morning over breakfast that she granted Mr. Malfoy's request to be able to live in the castle similarly to Hermione. After reaching out to the headmistress to meet, Draco conveyed his discomfort and the hardship of residing in Malfoy Manor which had been so permeated with bloodshed and hate both during the war and by the twisted pureblood ideals trumpeted by his lineage. Hermione begrudgingly understood but still felt as if her safe haven had been compromised.

The following weeks were composed of uncomfortable and tense contact with the blonde. Words were never spoken but rather tense head nods in acknowledgement whenever they came across one another. Hermione could sense that their interactions were not wrought with animosity but rather neither knew how to behave around the other.

One night when Hermione was plagued by insomnia, she ventured into the common room with the hope that the hearth would provide her the solace needed to be lulled to sleep. This would not be the first or last time that she would potentially fall asleep in the spacious living room. Wrapped in her blanket she silently trudged to the couch closest to the fire. As she slumped into the couch, she realized that the other side was occupied.

Draco was hunched over with his elbows on his knees, hair concealing his face in a very Snape-like manner, with a bottle of fire whiskey in hand. Turning glassy grey eyes to her, he simply lifted the bottle to her in an offering. Clutching her blanket tight, she tentatively took the outstretched bottle.

Hermione, throwing caution to the wind, took a swig of the fiery liquid. The burn sliding down her throat was satisfying, and she looked up to see a smirk on Malfoys pointed face.

"So you have indulged before then Granger? I was wondering if the princess of Gryffindor had ever sullied herself with liquor." Draco stated while staring into the flames.

His answer should have irritated her, but it didn't. She considered ignoring him but without thinking quietly said, "It helps me forget."

At this Draco slowly turned to her with an understanding look.

"Take it from me Granger, it only works for so long."

He carefully took the bottle back to take another hefty swig. Beyond the lowered lighting of some sconces, the flames were the only light source in the cavernous room. The flames danced across Draco's sharp features highlighting his aristocratic cheeks and almost feminine pout. Gathering her courage, Hermione turned to him.

"Thank you for what you did that night." At her words, his head whipped up to look intensely into her brown eyes warmed even more by the light of the fire.

"You are thanking me?" he scoffed turning his gaze back to the flames.

"Granger you and you friends saved the world. I just kept silent. It was not the first time I held my tongue, but it was the only time that I felt it was the right thing to do." His gaze then met hers and she saw sincerity in his normally guarded expression.

"Thank you, Granger. Of course, everyone has said that for ending the war but specifically you provided the epiphany I needed to understand just exactly how fucked up the entire situation was."

This surprised her. Hermione had assumed that his change of heart had occurred when tasked with murdering Dumbledore and she stated as much. He cringed at the reference to the late headmaster and after a pull of fire whiskey he clarified.

"That night… the sounds made me realize the horror and frivolous nature of the war. Aunt Bella's laugh, your screams, Weasley's pleas… It made me realize the impact. Before that night I was so exhausted and resentful of the impact that involvement with the Dark Lord had on myself and my family that I could not see the bigger picture. That night, I heard the smartest and most courageous witch I knew being reduced to tears and screams because of nothing more than her blood status and her loyalty to her childhood friend. All caused by my relative in my childhood home." Looking up at Hermione's open look of shock, he rolled his eyes.

"Don't look so surprised Granger, of course I knew you were intelligent. It was part of what fueled my childish bullying of you in our early years. You were a constant reminder that I would never be good enough. No matter how much effort I put in, I was consistently second in the class. Keep in mind, according to my father that I idealized, I should not have had to put in any effort to be superior to you. But beyond your intellect, your unwavering courage and loyalty was something that I could not fathom and desperately envied as I became more immersed in the war. When I was dragged over to identify Potter that night all I could think was 'what would Granger do?' and that is what I did."

Hermione was shell shocked. She was at an utter loss of words and the only action she could do was to close her mouth that had fallen in surprise. He looked at her meekly through the curtain of white blonde hair. Meekly? Who was this man sitting in front of her? Because he sure as hell was not the arrogant and aggressive bully that she had grown up with.

Overcome with emotion, she threw herself toward the startled blonde and hugged him harder than was probably comfortable. After his initial astonishment, she felt Malfoy relax and wrap his long arms around her small frame.

After moments passed comforting one another he leaned his face into the crook of her neck and whispered, "I just want to move past this war and learn who I am. I just want to live." He drew in a shaky breath and continued. "Even though I struggle every day to forgive my sins, could you forgive me Hermione? Can we start new?"

Not trusting her voice due to the shock of his sincerity and use of her first name, she nodded her head. Finally breaking the embrace, she did not scoot away but rather sat directly next to him. Pulling the blanket from her shoulders she billowed it out until it settled across their laps. Taking the bottle back, Hermione drank deeply from it and turned a smirk toward Malfoy.

"Don't think for a second that this will make me any less driven to ensure that I am top of the class this year." He chuckled good naturedly and leaned back against the arm of the couch extended his arm across her shoulders.

"I would expect nothing less Granger. That will make it that much more satisfying when I end up on top."

Even though few words were exchanged for the rest of the night, they both took comfort in the closeness of the other. Both had found themselves displaced by the war and simply being able to sit peacefully together placated their minds. That's how they fell asleep that night: draped across the couch leaning against one another tangled in Hermione's blanket. It was the best sleep that either had gotten in weeks.

Following that night the rest of the summer resulted in their blossoming friendship. Unsurprisingly, they shared great conversation on a variety of academic topics, but it almost always took a competitive tone that varied from teasing to fiery. As the friendship grew, it began to take on a brother like feel similar to her relationships with Harry and Ron. However, rather than the familial bonds shared with the boys her bond to Draco was more that of an overly clever spoiled younger sibling. It made her sharing Hogwarts with the Slytherin continuously interesting and even more comforting knowing that she had a friend present.

Shaking her head from the memories, she looked down into his pale face as he slept sprawled on the couch before the fireplace. His angelic appearance was quickly shattered as a loud snore emerged from his now open mouth.

Snorting softly Hermione gently sat in the space next to his waist and reached toward his outstretched foot. Sporting a devilish smile, she tickled the arch of his foot and instantly grey eyes sprang open and he emitted a not so masculine squeal.

"Bloody Hell Granger! Must you torment me?" Draco spat accusingly through blurry eyes.

"Oh no you don't Draco Malfoy, you do not want me to start listing off your list of torments directed at me throughout the years!" she scolded good-naturedly in a very Molly Weasley tone.

He begrudgingly sat up while grumpily clutching the tasseled pillow until he spotted the tea and cookies. Hermione passed him a lemon cookie knowing his insatiable sweet tooth and laughed as he still tried to look put out while munching.

"You're lucky I do not need my beauty sleep otherwise I would be terribly put out with you." Draco mumbled through his cookie.

As Hermione lifted her cup of tea to her mouth Draco's pale hand snagged it and took a large gulp.

"Blech! Must you always insist on drinking tea that tastes like a bouquet? Just wear floral perfume like a normal witch if you like flower water so much!" Making a face he quickly gave the offending teacup back.

Smirking over her teacup after taking a long drink, Hermione taunted, "You act as if I do not remember your dislike of jasmine tea, why do you think I made sure to have it?"

Lightning fast, he hurled the tasseled pillow at her face. Quickly deflecting it, she snatched the plate of cookies out of his reach.

"Oy come on Granger, share!" he whined like a child rather than the man he was. Tauntingly eating a cookie ignored his pleas. Hermione made pointed eye contact until he finally broke.

"Ugh, fine! May I please have some cookies?" Malfoy grumbled while rolling his eyes.

She passed the plate over to him and his foul mood dissipated instantly. It was a miracle he was still so svelte considering his penchant for sweets. Hermione had become accustomed to appetites growing up around Ron but the sheer pleasure Malfoy garnered from sweets was rather childish yet endearing.

"So why are you napping so early in the day Draco? We haven't even gone to dinner yet?" Hermione inquired while happily sipping on her tea.

"I got stuck with Longbottom working on tasks for Sprout all morning and afternoon. We had to weed the entirety of greenhouse 3 by hand. I swear I felt as if I was serving detention and Longbottom couldn't be happier. He is barmy, I swear."

While dramatically lamenting on his labor he reclined on the couch, snacking with the entire platter of cookies propped on his chest.

Hermione shook her head. "Oh, the horror! You had to do manual labor? The audacity. Excuse me for not being sympathetic." She rolled her eyes.

"Easy for you to say! You got to stay inside in the nice cool dungeons brewing potions. I would much prefer that luxury." He pursed his lips. "You have no idea how long it took to get all of the muck off, and somehow I still managed to get dirt beneath my fingernails!"

Hermione could not help but laugh at his indignation. "And you call me a princess!"

As Hermione laughed at her prissy friend, he took aim with another pillow. This time the pillow did not miss.


	5. Chapter 5 - The Great Hall

_A little short and somewhat transition chapter for you all! I am currently working from home and self-quarantining, so here is to hoping I can focus enough to produce more chapters for you all soon. I hope you enjoy this introduction to some of the other lovely students at Hogwarts and if you have any suggestions for things you would like to see in future chapters please do not hesitate to share! Finally, I am tossing around the idea of including a Halloween Costume Ball in some capacity (either in this fic or as a one shot) and I know exactly what costume I want for our favorite curly haired, book loving shero but I am not sold on any other character costumes. If this is something that you would be interested in, please leave any recommendations for character costumes in reviews or messages and I will make sure to credit you if I pursue the Halloween chapter/fic! Alright, enough rambling, enjoy! _

**Lessons on Cauldrons & Companionship**

Dinner in the Great hall was both similar and different than years past. Of course, the room still was filled to the brim with the most delicious foods imaginable and voices chatting away, but the structure was a bit different.

There was still the long table set high above the students for the professors overlooking four grand tables arranged down the length of the hall. However, unlike in the past, the tables were loosely labelled per house, but students were encouraged to intermingle and sit with their friends regardless of house affiliation.

The house table that they sat at would vary but was predominantly Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. Hermione quickly spotted the table her friends were gathered at once noticing Neville happily waving her over. One difference that was hard for Hermione to not feel the ache of was that, even with her old and new friends, she would not have her meals flanked by Harry and Ron. Regardless of the twinge for the normalcy of her meals with her raven and ginger haired best friends she felt comfortable and happy amongst the current group.

She smiled at her friends and began scanning the section of the table for a seat. She not so gently nudged Draco to make room and sat between him and Neville while sitting across from Luna and Ginny.

Like what table they were seated at, the people in the group would change depending on the day. Neville, Ginny, and Luna were the most frequently clustered but at times they were joined by other 7th and 8th years from the other houses including Slytherin. Tonight, some fellow students included Blaise, Seamus, and Padma. At times this could lead to tempers flaring but all in all interhouse friendship was truly blossoming post war. After all, once it was made quite clear that Hermione and Draco were not only on speaking terms but quite close everyone else seemed to warm up to those in other houses.

After sitting her heavy bag down and serving herself a portion of comfort food, she started assessing the conversations around her. It seemed that there was a rather heated discussion of the merits of different quidditch maneuvers between Ginny and Draco while Blaise and Seamus were jokingly teasing Neville about growing some very select herbs for them to partake in.

Shaking her head while smiling, she was pleased to see how comfortable everyone was around the table. Looking across from her, Hermione noted that Luna was not engaged in conversation. This was not unusual for the faraway blonde, so Hermione began reflecting on her own thoughts. While Hermione chewed and thought of what all she wanted to accomplish after dinner, Luna's melodic voice caught her attention.

"Hermione, do you know the spell that is used on the ceiling?" Luna said dreamily whilst looking up at the starry sky swirling above the Great Hall.

Turning her brown eyes upward to the swirling sky, she thought about what all she knew about the spell work.

"I do not know the specific spell, but I know the theory as outlined in Hogwarts a History. I am sure Professor Flitwick would know more also. Why do you ask?"

Luna turned her dreamy gaze to Hermione with a sad smile, "I have found following my time in Malfoy Manor that I do not care for ceilings… or walls… or being closed in."

Conversations began to quiet around them, and tension blossomed at the table. Luna continued without notice.

"It has been hard in several places particularly the dungeons and in my room, but I have been spending more time outside which makes me happy. I am thinking that perhaps using a similar spell in my room would help me feel freer. Plus, it might help me sleep without waking up in panics."

The tension was even more palpable around the table. Draco clenched his silverware and scowled down at his plate. Neville swallowed loudly and nervously looked at everyone except Luna. Ginny took Luna's hand fiercely causing the girl to turn her gaze to the loyal ginger. Hermione cleared her throat and tried her best to smile at Luna.

"I will make sure to look back at the description within Hogwarts a History and talk to Flitwick about it. I would be happy to help."

Luna thanked her and there was a heavy pause following the conversation. Draco cleared his throat and looked back up at the blonde Ravenclaw seated across from him.

"I have found that tending the greenhouses is not my favorite and if you would prefer, perhaps we could talk to Mcgonagall about switching my greenhouse duties with your potions shifts."

Everyone turned to him and he shuffled somewhat uncomfortably. "I mean I am missing the dungeons and the dirt and manual labor do not agree with me at all, so it just seems fitting." He said in a huff in a poor imitation of his snooty demeanor from his early years of Hogwarts.

Luna looked at him, tilted her head slightly and smiled. "Thank you, Draco that would be lovely. I have found that the greenhouses are my favorite place to do tasks lately. The glass walls let me see the sky and there are loads of blibbering humdingers around greenhouse 5."

Ginny smiled and jokingly tossed a bit of her roll at Draco, "Look at you Malfoy, you are nothing but a big softy!"

Pink spots blossomed on his high cheekbones as he wordlessly caused the remainder of the redhead's roll to fly into her mouth stopping her laughter and thoroughly diffusing the heavy mood that had just moments before shrouded the table.

Whilst the rest of her peers were laughing at the exchange, Hermione turned to Luna and spoke in a gentle tone.

"Luna, if you ever have trouble sleeping go out to the common room. I have found that helps and often you might find someone else there to take your mind off things. Plus, the high ceilings and firelight bouncing off the mirrors might be more comforting than your room until I figure out the spell to enchant your ceiling."

This garnered a smile from the blonde and she simply and sincerely responded, "You are good friend Hermione."

The moment was promptly interrupted by a thick bubbling sound and the pungent smell of rotten pumpkins.

"As ucht Dé! What's a lad gotta do 'round here for a bit of a gargle!" Seamus exclaimed in a thick brogue sparked by surprise and anger while jumping back from his now rapidly curdling goblet of pumpkin juice.

Blaise laughed while pinching his nose and moving further away from the Irishman down the table. He sat promptly down next to Hermione jarring Neville to the side and forcing her to be pressed against Draco's side.

"If you wanted a bit of alcohol, there are better ways than experimenting at the dinner table," the suave Slytherin said with a smirk while draping an arm around Hermione's shoulders. Hermione did not respond since she had soon discovered that if she made any fuss with the overly touchy Slytherin he would continuously pick at her. Plus, she would never admit it out loud, but it was nice to now have friends that she could casually lean against or be touched by comfortably. This helped cushion her adjustment to being at Hogwarts without Harry and Ron.

Seamus' only retort was an enthusiastic rude hand gesture in their direction. Laughter burst out from the table until, with a sickly pop and a plume of smoke, the curdled pumpkin juice mimicked a geyser and covered everyone in the vicinity.

As everyone was dripping with orange muck and shell shocked, the stern tone of one Severus Snape was directed at Seamus.

"20 points from Gryffindor for your misguided experimentation and detention this weekend. Based on this incident, I will make sure that your tasks allow you to be further surrounded by smells and sludges."

Professor Snape rose one eyebrow while looking at the Irishman who was clearly trying to contain his anger in order to not receive further punishment. Appeased, the potions master glanced around the table with a cutting look and with a swift flick of his wand cleared the gunk off all surfaces including students. Dark eyes flickered to the casual drape of Blaise's arm around Hermione's frame and her pressed figure against Malfoy with a narrowed glance.

"Miss Granger, the hospital wing is in need of additional potions. Be ready to brew in an hour." With his terse command he gracefully swiveled and stalked toward the exit of the dining hall in a billow of cloaks.

Silence sat at his dramatic exit until it was pierced by the teasingly tone of the sassy dark Slytherin next to her.

"OOooooOOOO someone's in trouble." Blaise stated with a toothy grin.

With an overexaggerated eyeroll and promptly dropping his arm from her shoulders, Hermione gathered her bag and left the dining hall to go prepare for her unexpected brewing session with the rather acerbic professor.


End file.
